Numb
by ScroogeMcDuck
Summary: A Bill Sykes songfic; Bill is tired of being what Fagin wants him to be, while Fagin fears losing control... Please R&R!


Numb

**A/N:** An idea I've had in my head for AGES but never bothered to write down. XD

The song is Numb, by Linkin Park. I'm not a huge fan of 'modern' music (showtunes ftw!) but my brother's Linkin Park CD inspires so many songfic ideas… =P

This could be done from so many viewpoints…Bill, Nancy, Fagin, Dodger… or is that just my overactive brain? I went with Bill in an attempt to inspire the next chapter of 'Bill Sykes'. Because I inspire my fanfiction with more fanfiction. See my logic?

Enough rambling from me…on with the songfic!

Italics are lyrics. Non-italics is fic.

Please R&R! ^^

--

_I'm tired of being what you want me to be  
Feeling so faithless lost under the surface_

Bill sat brooding beside the fire, a glass of gin as ever in his hand. His eyelids drooped; he longed for sleep, but he couldn't. He couldn't succumb to the drowsiness that made his very bones ache. He would have to leave the flat in a few minutes, for another night on the job. Another night housebreaking. Another night risking his neck for the old man who lay snoring away in a room beyond, not caring if he got hung, not caring for anything but his precious goods. He never would have thought it, but Bill Sykes wasn't just tired with fatigue. He was tired of this life. Always doing what Fagin wanted, obeying Fagin's every order. Who was Fagin to order him around; pick this pocket, rob this house, finish your breakfast, drink your gin, shut your trap?

_Don't know what you're expecting of me  
Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes_

Did Fagin realize how dangerous this job was? Had he ever broken into a house? Had he even considered breaking into a house? And yet he mounted all this pressure on Bill, expecting him to return with a wealth of items against all odds. No matter that it's dangerous, no matter that you could get injured, captured, even hung! Even when Bill had been younger, picking pockets for Fagin, he recalled the stress he'd been put under. He was expected to bring back the best stuff; he was the one to look up to, the one to respect. This rang true especially when Fagin brought back other boys; they all treated Bill as the epitome of pickpocketing, with the same expectations as the old man. He was Bill Sykes; he would always bring back the best.

No pressure.

_(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)  
Every step that I take is another mistake to you  
(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)_

But no matter what Bill did, even when he'd brought back the most expensive pocketwatch, the best lined wallet, the unmarked handkerchiefs…even when Fagin showered him with praise…the pride in his voice didn't quite meet his eyes. He always expected better, even when Sykes was at the top of his game.

And Bill was sick of it.

_I've become so numb I can't feel you there  
Become so tired so much more aware  
I'm becoming this all I want to do  
Is be more like me and be less like you_

--

_Can't you see that you're smothering me  
Holding too tightly afraid to lose control_

It wasn't just Fagin's constant pressure that irked Bill no end; there was also his anxiety, his paranoia, his fear of being caught. Whenever Bill flew into a temper, Fagin would cower away from him, terrified both of his anger, but also of losing control. Bill was no longer a young boy, easily manipulated and trained. He was a young man now, with an iron will and a mind of his own. He didn't need Fagin to help him anymore, he could survive alone. Bill knew Fagin hated his weakening influence over him; he was used to being master of the house, the one to be respected and looked up to.

But Bill had taken that title long ago.

_Cause everything that you thought I would be  
Has fallen apart right in front of you_

Fagin had always known Bill would turn out to be a good worker; from the moment he took the lad in he had shown such promise, such finesse. When he moved onto housebreaking it was all the better; as many rich pickings as Fagin had gold teeth. And yet…Bill hadn't turned out as Fagin had hoped, in a way. He had changed over the years, as one was expected to do. But Bill had taken a change for the worse; drinking, swearing and getting into fights…he wasn't the same boy he had once been…

_  
Every step that I take is another mistake to you  
(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)_

_And every second I waste is more than I can take_

Bill heaved himself to his feet, donning his hat and hurriedly downing the rest of his gin. As the clock chimed twelve, he left the flat, closing the door behind him with a sharp snap. Bulls-Eye, his faithful dog, was as ever at his heels. Tonight was the same as any other night…it had become such a routine now that Bill didn't even mind the danger…he was so numb to the fear of getting caught now…the job was dangerous, he knew that. He knew every time he robbed a house he risked his neck.

And yet…__

I've become so numb I can't feel you there  
Become so tired so much more aware  
I'm becoming this all I want to do  
Is be more like me and be less like you

--

__

And I know  
I may end up failing too

_But I know  
You were just like me with someone disappointed in you_

Fagin had been disappointed in Bill many a time. At first it had been half empty wallets, then his excessive drinking, then his increasingly violent tendencies… The list just seemed to keep getting longer, especially since Fagin had unknowingly discovered just how Bill treated Nancy behind closed doors. Despite this, Bill knew he wasn't the only one at fault, he wasn't the only one to blame…surely Fagin had disappointed someone at some stage in his life? He must have done; he disappointed Bill on many occasions, especially with regards to his payments.__

I've become so numb I can't feel you there  
Become so tired so much more aware  
I'm becoming this all I want to do  
Is be more like me and be less like you

_  
_The house was in sight. Bill scaled the fence with ease, not caring that the metal was rusting a little and cut his hands, not caring that he stumbled and fell as he hit the grass, slippery with the rain that was lashing down in torrents. This was what he did best; he was Bill Sykes! He wouldn't turn out like Fagin, terrified every waking hour, haunted by visions of the traps and the gallows…

_  
I've become so numb I can't feel you there  
I'm tired of being what you want me to be  
I've become so numb I can't feel you there  
I'm tired of being what you want me to be_


End file.
